


we sleep through the night

by gonegirled



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Game(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2018-12-31 18:59:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12138996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gonegirled/pseuds/gonegirled
Summary: "They found him on a Sunday morning and, all things considered, he was less surprised than he probably should’ve been."Four years ago, 2% of the world's population disappeared without explanation. It's still hard to navigate the spaces where they used to be. (AKA, the Dream Daddy Leftovers AU literally no one asked for.)





	1. New Visitors

**Author's Note:**

> in case you haven't seen the greatest television show of this decade, watch the leftovers on HBO! this is not a sponsored post; i just really love that show, and also dream daddy, and somehow this became an acceptable combo in my brain and i can't write normal fics like a normal person!
> 
> the world is pretty intentionally vague for the moment (read: i hate just being like "this is exactly what this cult believes in and that's why they're here" and also i'm lazy), so if you haven't seen the leftovers and don't know what's up, don't worry. all should come in due time.

They found him on a Sunday morning and, all things considered, he was less surprised than he probably should’ve been.

Aidan woke up on his own couch with a crick in his neck and the _Pretty Woman_ DVD main menu softly humming in the background, because despite all of his best intentions, his bedroom literally right upstairs was too far away and really, it was important when finishing _Pretty Woman_ to start it right over again. For the nuance, of course. Robert was always going on about nuance in film, and he was doing his best to get to his neighbor’s level. Not that Garry Marshall was Bergman or anything. (Marshall was better, more entertaining, and significantly more comprehensible than Bergman, not that he was ready for that debate with Robert yet. Baby steps.)

As much as he wanted to deny the fact that his late-night binging habits were not indicative of his mental state, Aidan had also sent a picture of said DVD menu (before viewing #1) to Amanda with the caption “pity party of 1, your couch is ready.” She’d done the proper daughterly thing, threading her concern, sympathy, and wit gracefully — _yes_ , everything was okay; _yes_ , Robert was out of town; _no_ , she didn’t have to call him. She understood that things were hard enough in the fall, coming up on the anniversary. She’d also been properly caught up on the strange saga with Robert, and while he was glad his neighbor was in New York, making amends with his daughter, he also missed him. As a friend, of course. Because that’s all that they were. 

Despite the crick and last night’s mental state, Aidan wasn’t doing terribly that morning. Six or so hours of unconsciousness, while not as good as eight or ten or twelve, gave him a new lease on life. The sun was shining; Robert was coming home later that day; he had two silent visitors standing vigil and smoking right outside his home.

Sorry, what was that last bit?

Aidan had noticed without really noticing. Just a cursory glance out of his front window — _oh, yes, those two_ — as he sat up before he started to walk to the kitchen, only for his addled brain to catch up with him a few steps later. He froze, all of his petty concerns forgotten, feeling as though he were a rubber band pulled tight. They were here. They were here _for him_.

A certain uneasiness overtook him, standing in the entrance to his kitchen. Like he was on the verge of having a chill that just wouldn’t pass. His entire body waited for the adjustment to come, but the longer the wait, the more agitated he felt. It took three careful breaths, _in and out, in and out, in and out_ , before he could go into the kitchen and start making his coffee and burning his toast. 

Aidan was decidedly not looking out the front window. Not thinking about what this meant for the weeks ahead. Not thinking about his neighbor Angela and the shuttered pain in her eyes and the disarming silence that replaced who she used to be. Not thinking about how the anniversary was coming up and goddamn it, it was hard enough, but they knew. They fucking counted on it.

Instead, he was making a plan for the day. A plan that involved acting like a normal, well-adjusted human being who was not bothered by the visitors standing just off his lawn. His day was wide open, which was once nice but now incredibly unhelpful. Staying at home was not an option. He had to get out, go somewhere, do something. 

He had to put on real clothes.

Mission somewhat decided, Aidan finished his first cup of coffee, taking a moment to feel the residual warmth of the mug in the curve of his palm. Then he headed upstairs, eyes skirting past the front window as he moved through the living room with determined deliberateness. He went to his closet and ignored the backpack tucked away in the corner, instead picking a shirt and a pair of pants. For a second, he worried about what the two outside would think of his outfit, then he worried about worrying, then he dismissed it altogether. He’d learned a thing or two from Mary, which was mostly don’t ever let them see you sweat. A casual button-down and his semi-recently-washed jeans weren’t exactly in Ms. Christiansen’s _Looks to Kill_ book, but as far as dad fashion went, it was more than acceptable.

Next step was actually leaving the house, which was easier than it sounded. Shoes on, keys in hand, he spent a second braced near the door, hand tight on the knob, knowing what waited for him outside. Another careful breath. He could hear Alex’s voice in his head: _in and out. There you go, sweetheart._

It took everything he had within him not to fling himself out the door when he opened it. Instead, he just walked outside like everything was normal, gaze settling upon his new guests.

He didn’t recognize either of the women. They stood there all dressed in white, one woman taking a drag of her cigarette just as the other blew out smoke, their eyes trained on him with an intensity that betrayed their trained stoicism. Finally, he was giving them something — finally, here was their purpose. Aidan stood on his front porch, door ajar, staring at these two women just as they stared at him. What were they to do with each other?

The morning was silent. Aidan pulled his door shut too aggressively, and the slam almost made him jolt. It made him break his gaze, looking down at his own feet, as though ashamed. Instead, he was feeling anything but — he was feeling what he guessed everyone must’ve felt when their time came: discomfort, irritation, helplessness. A certain morbid curiosity. It was easy to understand how those feelings ballooned into their uglier extremities, how everyone felt the need to take action — any action — sooner or later. 

He swallowed thickly and turned to lock the door, taking the moment to regain his composure. A comment lingered on the tip of his tongue: _hi there; nice day for it; what bleach do you use?_ Just something, anything, to make sure they knew they were not getting to him. 

But he found himself falling silent as he walked down his driveway, giving the ladies another cursory glance as he passed them by. They had nothing to say to each other.

 

* * *

 

The park was quiet and temperate and peaceful, albeit lacking a good amount of dogs. Aidan found himself sitting on a bench, and after taking a moment to soak up the sun, he checked his phone. There were condolence texts to reply to — Mary’s, oddly, but also Craig’s and Brian’s. Brian, thankfully, avoided doing his Brian thing, choosing wisely to offer his vague support: _if you ever need anything…_

The group sympathy was nice, but Aidan couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. The real estate agent had told him this cul-de-sac hadn’t seen much of the Guilty Remnant and now he’d shown up and brought a living reminder to everyone’s doorstep in less than a year. He’d outdone himself. 

Before he could go any further down that dangerous path, Aidan received a text from Robert. Texts, rather. he watched the “Robert Small” notification on his phone quickly become “Robert Small (2),” then “Robert Small (3),” and so on until it settled at “Robert Small (5)” for the moment. 

_hey_  
_mary told me what happened_  
_when they show up again im gonna go apeshit_  
_you okay_  
_wanna do a movie tonight_

Aidan smiled, taking a moment to reread the texts as though he were reproving to himself that Robert — what? Was concerned for him? Cared about him? It was small, but Robert wasn’t exactly Richard Gere, and Aidan wasn’t expecting any big gestures. A movie sounded nice right about now, although tonight seemed like an eternity away. There was still an entire day to fill. 

He took a second to reply: _I’ll be okay_  
_do you wanna hang out when you get home?_  
_if you’re too tired I understand!_

It only took him a minute to respond: _stopping for coffee now be home in an hour_

An hour Aidan could do.

 

* * *

 

They were sitting on his curb when he got back. He heard somewhere once — maybe NPR, in the year following the Departure when he listened to NPR until suddenly he didn’t anymore — that when you were chosen by the Guilty Remnant, they would follow you everywhere.

Maybe they knew he wouldn’t be gone for long. Maybe they knew how little of a life he led. There _was_ something a little judgmental in their stares.

The woman on the right was shorter, younger, her red hair cropped short and cigarette dangling precariously between her chapped lips. Her partner was clearly more experienced, more patient, a woman Aidan could’ve imagined working in a bakery, or perhaps a flower shop. She looked like she might’ve been bright and happy once, and that was the worst thing about her. 

He lingered in the middle of the street, almost wary of approaching his own home. The stench of their smoke hung in the air; he thought again of how the other parents, especially with younger kids, must resent him for this, even subconsciously. 

“So who feeds you guys?” he found himself asking, hardly even thinking about it. At the very least, his voice sounded neutral. “You get lunch breaks?” The redhead’s eyes flashed, and suddenly a pad of paper and a pen were in her hand, scribbling away furiously. But her partner laid a still hand over the pad without looking away from Aidan, her gaze impassive. It only put him more on edge, and his voice came out a little bit tighter when he said, “I’d make you something, but believe it or not, I’m actually trying _not_ to kill you.”

“Aidan.” He hadn’t noticed the front door opening; hell, he hadn’t even noticed Robert’s truck in his driveway, but now he turned to see the man standing on his front porch, clad in his usual leather jacket, striking an intimidating figure in the doorway. His hand rested casually on the doorjamb, except Aidan caught the way his fingers dug in a little bit, as though he were holding himself back. “You coming?” 

“Just catching up with the new neighbors,” Aidan replied casually, casting another glance at the women on his curb. They’d never even bothered to stand. Maybe he was exceptionally lucky and got a pair of lazy recruits who would give up once they fully understood how boring his life was. He meant to say something clever, but instead he practically skipped to Robert’s door, happy to leave them behind. 

Robert barely budged to let him pass; Aidan had to brush past him, feeling the heat of his body and the leather of his jacket, his own cheeks reddening as he ducked his head. His neighbor was too busy giving the women a good stare down to notice. He spat on his front porch before he closed the door behind him.

“They give smoking a bad name,” he grumbled as Aidan stepped into the living room, delighted to hear the familiar jangle of a dog collar and the pitter patter of tiny claws scrabbling on the hardwood floor. He knelt to give Betsy all the affection she deserved.

“Smoking kind of already does that on its own,” Aidan said, looking up. Robert grunted and shrugged off his jacket. 

“They come today?” he asked. 

“Yeah.” Aidan’s voice had gone soft. Betsy rolled back on her feet with a snort and trotted off, satisfied for the moment. Aidan remained crouched on the floor, watching Robert as he crossed the room and sat down on the couch. “I’m sorry.” Robert gave him a swift, dark look, but Aidan pushed on. “I know — I _know_ that I don’t need to be, but it doesn’t change the fact that I feel shitty about them being here. Nobody… needs them here, and it’s my fault that they are, so.” 

“They’re gonna do what they’re gonna do,” Robert grumbled. “No one’s gonna hold it against you. If they do, I’ll have something to say about it.” He patted the cushion beside him on the couch, and Aidan was all too quick to occupy it. His scrambling earned him a half smile, but he reciprocated it all the same. Robert looked tired, but his eyes were warm and fond. Aidan wished that Robert would touch him — hold his hand or stroke his cheek or brush his hair, if only for a moment. He felt small and selfish all of a sudden, and he lowered his gaze.

“They have my file,” he sighed. “They’re not going to just go away, Robert.” He’d seen his old neighbor Angela when he was grocery shopping just a few months ago. She’d looked through him, like he’d never existed. They had followed her for only a week before she gave in.

“Aidan.” Robert’s hand was warm on his wrist. “Hey. Aidan.” He looked up, and Robert met his gaze evenly. It grounded him. “You’re not going anywhere, okay? Those assholes wanna come chaperone us while we go look for Bigfoot, fine by me. They are not taking you. You’re with me.” Aidan looked up, blinking a bit. It was dusty in there. “You got that?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, and boy, it was really dusty in there, his throat was so scratchy. He wanted so bad to dig into that “you’re with me” comment, but instead he let himself be in the moment, let himself feel the warmth of Robert’s hand on his wrist, the slight stuffiness of Robert’s living room, his own steady heartbeat. He let the silence fill him up; it was unlike the silence he’d been met with outside, grave and confounding and almost frightening. Robert’s silence was reassuring and familiar. It felt almost like home.


	2. The Cockroach Problem

“Baby, I can’t stop thinking about the roaches.” Really, it had been one singular roach, although its size made up for its lack of reinforcements. Aidan had seen it making its own little way across the living room floor, let out a very manly shriek, froze, and then watched it continue on its way. At least until he’d had an audience to spur him on to kill it, because it really was his turn. The first boot hadn’t quite gotten it, sent it skittering faster, but Aidan was full of adrenaline at that point and eager to finish the job. A bloodbath of Tarantino proportions. “Should we call an exterminator?” 

“There was one bug. How many times in this house have we seen one stray bug and then gone on to lead happy, undisturbed lives?” 

“That’s exactly what they want you to think,” Aidan muttered, only half-listening. His laptop was already out; prices were being compared. And then, in a new tab, it was time to do research. “Did you know they come through the walls? I mean, they don’t spontaneously manifest in homes, but it’s not cause we left the kitchen window open. We could have foundational problems.”

“Sweetheart,” Alex breathed, right in his ear, “you worry too much.” He pressed a kiss to Aidan’s temple, right as Aidan cringed at a particularly gruesome picture. With a groan, his husband stood. “Do you want anything from the kitchen?”

Aidan hummed, looking at home remedies now. “I’m fine.” He looked up as Alex stepped into the kitchen, catching only a glimpse at the back of his head. “Thank you, though.” He went back to his research. 

A moment later, he heard the glass shatter in the kitchen. Aidan closed his laptop, sitting up.

“Alex?” Outside, the dogs began to bark.

 

* * *

 

It took him a second to realize that what had woken him up was not, in fact, his alarm, but his phone ringing. Aidan rolled over in bed, his heart still racing, and yanked the phone from its charger. His momentary panic subsided when he saw who was calling, only to be replaced with apprehension.

“Please don’t make me do this,” he mumbled into the phone by way of greeting, his voice gravelly and quiet. 

“Bro, you promised,” Craig shot back, sounding well-rested and chipper, the bastard. “I’m not letting you out of this one. Plus, your uh, visitors aren’t even up yet.” Aidan scoffed.

“You think I’m going to shame them with my friend-imposed fitness regimen?” He sat up with a groan, padding over to the window to peer outside. No women in white to be seen; only his neighbor, decked out on his finest athletic wear and his baby harness. Aidan had a complete jogging outfit gifted to him somewhere in his dresser. “Maybe my dadbod will scare them out of smoking.”

“Stranger things have happened,” Craig agreed amiably, giving him a big wave when he caught Aidan staring. Then he made River give a smaller wave. “Maybe if they hear you singing in the shower, they’ll actually speak just to tell you to shut up.”

Despite himself, Aidan grinned. “I’ll be right down.”

 

* * *

 

Not that he would ever tell Craig this, but running did have its upsides. Mostly, Aidan was too focused on things like _not dying_ and _the excruciating pain in his knees_ to think about the Guilty Remnant, at least for an hour. He and his former roommate headed to the Coffee Spoon as they cooled down, only because Aidan had whined enough about being tired that Craig relented. Aidan suspected that his neighbor would get an ice water — maybe an iced tea — that he could drink politely before heading home to the protein shake no doubt waiting to be blended in his state-of-the-art Nutribullet. 

Mat had opened not too long before they’d gotten there, but his cafe was so popular in Maple Bay that they waited in line. As Aidan looked over the menu and felt his heart rate return to something somewhat normal, he also remembered the dream he had last night before Craig had woken him up. He picked at a hangnail absentmindedly, thinking of the dogs in his neighborhood, the shattered glass on his kitchen floor. There was still a small sliver of a scar on the sole of his left foot from a piece he’d missed when cleaning up.

“Bro,” Craig said softly, and Aidan looked up, realizing that Mat was smiling at him patiently despite the growing line behind him. The man was a saint. Aidan adjusted his glasses and ducked his head.

“Sorry, Mat.”

“No worries, man. Hey,” he said suddenly, leaning in as he lowered his voice, “I just wanted to say I’m sorry about the Remnant. It’s…” He bit his lip for a split second. “You shouldn’t have to put up with that kind of stuff.” Aidan had told most of his neighbors about Alex when he was first getting to know them; Mat seemed to understand, having lost a spouse too. She'd just gone the old fashioned way.

“I appreciate it,” Aidan aid with a tiny, polite smile. He ordered a Flat White Snake and a slice of the Smashing Pumpkins Bread, ignoring Craig’s good-natured protests that they’d set back whatever calories he’d burned over the course of their run. It was only a matter of time before Craig wrangled him back to the gym to do non-cardio work, and Aidan had to retain what little sense of self he had. Pumpkin bread would never be taken from him.

The two took their drinks to go; Craig still had to get the girls ready for school, which reminded Aidan of how ungodly early it still was. They walked in companionable silence, but then Aidan remembered that the walk from the Coffee Spoon to the cul-de-sac was short and if he were going to get anything off his chest, he better do it sooner rather than later.

“I had the dream about Alex last night,” he blurted out, before immediately taking a drink of his coffee to avoid acknowledging the look of concern Craig shot him. 

“I’m sorry, bro,” Craig said after a long moment, looking down at River. “Do you think it’s because of the Remnant? I mean, you haven’t had it in a while, right?”

“Guess they’re doing their job,” Aidan replied, not sounding bitter whatsoever. “Being a living reminder.” He inhaled deeply. “I mean… they aren’t totally wrong, you know? I shouldn’t get to forget the Departure happened.” _I shouldn’t get to move on._ He thought of Robert last night, sneaking glances at Robert’s handsome profile in the light of his television. Feeling his heart warm when Robert smiled, talking about Val and New York. 

“Dude.” Craig stopped walking. Aidan hadn’t noticed for a moment and then turned around to face his friend. “Just because you’re not like, catatonic doesn’t mean you’ve forgotten anything happened. They don’t know anything about you or Alex. They’re just a cult.” Aidan raised his brows at the venom in Craig’s voice; his neighbor was far angrier than he’d been letting on. Craig must’ve picked up on his surprise, because he huffed out a sigh and then shook his head. “And trust me, I know about cults, I supply to a lot of Crossfit gyms.”

“Nice,” Aidan said dryly. He nodded in the direction of the cul-de-sac, and they began to walk again. Still, it was obvious something was on Craig’s mind.

“He was my friend too, you know? I loved him.” Aidan looked over at Craig, and his neighbor offered him a sad smile. “And I love you too, in a very bro-like way. And it kills me to see you like this, and it kills me that those silent weirdos are preying on people like that. You just… you know you aren’t alone, right, bro? You’d come talk to someone if you were thinking of doing something crazy?” 

“Of course,” Aidan replied, almost on auto-pilot. They’d returned to the cul-de-sac, and he could see the same two women as before walking up to his front lawn. They spotted the pair walking back and proceeded to light up. Aidan clapped Craig on the shoulder. “Thanks, Craig,” he mumbled, forcing a quick smile as he turned down his driveway. Craig called back his goodbye, and Aidan tried not to think too hard about how Craig said he’d _loved_ Alex, as though he’d rationalized and accepted what happened, as though when you started loving Alex you could ever consciously stop.

 

* * *

 

 _jim & kim’s @ 8_  
_be there or be square_  
_being square just means ill show up to your house and shame you into going_

After a quick Facetime with Amanda that yielded disappointing results (“Pops, I didn’t tell you I took your flannel because you would’ve said no, and that wasn’t what I wanted to hear.” “Panda, that was like, my one cool thing.”), Aidan headed out to Jim & Kim’s, excited both for Robert’s company and also to get a drink and unwind from the day. 

He headed out, ignoring his two guests (he really ought to come up with nicknames for them) and enjoying the crisp late-September air. He loved this time of year, although ever since the Departure, it had also put him on edge. He still remembered smelling the fall air through the open kitchen window the day of. It had been Alex’s idea to open the window and let the nice cool air in, of course — he’d always been one to take joy in life’s smallest pleasures, and he wanted to make sure Aidan did as well. He’d always been a man of the moment until he suddenly, cruelly wasn’t.

Jim & Kim’s was pretty lowkey on a Monday night, so it was easy to spot Robert and Mary across the bar. He made a beeline right to them, trying to think of a cool, Mary-like greeting and only coming up with, “What’s up?” 

“What’s up,” Mary replied flatly, though the slight curve of her mouth made Aidan feel slightly more at ease. She glanced pointedly at his hands, empty, and then gestured with her nearly empty wine glass. “I don’t see a drink for you, or for me, for that matter.” 

“I _knew_ I was forgetting something,” Aidan nodded, already turning to get the three of them a round, but Mary grabbed his arm with a sigh.

“You can’t do anything right,” she said, sounding so very put-upon. “I might as well get this round myself.” Gracefully, she slid out of the booth and gestured for Aidan to slide in where she’d once sat. Aidan complied, raising a shocked brow at Robert, who only smirked.

“She’s being nice. Should I be concerned?”

“Her generosity will pass,” Robert shrugged. His light gaze turned more serious. “How’re you holding up?”

“You don’t have to do that,” Aidan said, even though he kind of liked it when Robert did that, feeling his cheeks warm under the consideration of the other man’s concern. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”

“Hey, I’m just waiting for the heads up for when this murder becomes premeditated. Of course, I’d have your back in a crime of passion, but when you’re ready to do this right…” 

“Right, you’re my guy,” Aidan replied easily. “For murder purposes only.” He flashed him a quick, only slightly forced smile, and Robert seemed about ready to say something else when Mary returned, three shots of whiskey at the ready. 

“Cheers, fellas,” she said, holding up her glass immediately. Robert and Aidan quickly followed suit, and the whiskey’s burn was familiar enough at this point to be almost welcome. “Now that these pleasantries are out of the way, I have a feeling that guy’s probably the only fun I’m gonna have tonight, so if you’ll excuse me…” Mary turned and headed back to the bar to approach a younger, ginger-haired man. Aidan looked at Robert and lifted his glass up in askance; the other man nodded.

Aidan bought the next round. He slid a glass over to Robert and lifted his up. 

“To you.” Robert quirked a brow, tried to school his bemusement into a cool apathy.

“I do love celebrating me, but to which part in particular?” 

“To you going to New York. I’m really glad it went well, Robert,” Aidan said sincerely, watching the other man lower his gaze for a moment. “Also, to your amazing jawline.” That earned him a genuine laugh, which made Aidan grin. It was an infectious, warm sound. They drank. 

“Thanks,” Robert murmured afterwards, his finger dragging around the rim of the glass. “For… you know. All of it.” His mouth twitched upwards in a half-smile. “You’re a good friend.” Aidan nodded, doing his best to return Robert’s smile. A part of him ached at the idea that it was all he was. Maybe it was all they could ever be. 

He sank back into the booth for the moment, just enjoying the noise of the bar. He watched the other handful of patrons, drinking alone or in pairs, save for one small group of four businessmen. He watched The Game on the TVs, not caring about either of the teams playing. He watched, from the corner of his eye, Robert watch it all too, his expression inscrutable but attractive all the same. The whiskey was warm in his belly, and he was warm in this bar, and things were all okay for a moment. 

And at the exact moment that things were okay, an unbidden thought flashed across this mind: _this is exactly what they mean_. Four years ago, millions of people just up and vanished into thin air — _his own husband had vanished_ — and now what? He just got to be magically okay? He got to pine for his hot, emotionally withdrawn neighbor and pretend that whatever happened was normal and over? 

Maybe they knew him after all. Maybe the Guilty Remnant saw how his life was threatening to become settled, how ready he was to adjust to his new house and his new life on the other side of town, and they had to do something about it. Maybe they were right.

Robert was staring at him, openly. He didn’t even need to ask; it must’ve shown on Aidan’s face, like clouds rolling in. Aidan met his gaze for a moment, wishing he could articulate all of these things without sounding insane, wishing he could make it make sense to someone else. Instead of trying, he slid out of the booth.

“I’ll be right back,” he mumbled, heading to the bathroom. He could feel Robert watching him as he walked all the way there; the door provided a nice reprieve, and Aidan just braced himself against the sink for a moment. He ran the tap, closing his eyes. He could see that cockroach on his old living room floor if he really thought about it.

He never saw any more after the Departure. He’d even forgotten to call an exterminator, but there were no more incidents. It would've been Alex's turn to kill them.

Aidan turned off the sink and walked out of the bathroom. He’d been prepared to get one more drink, just to take his mind off things, but he ran into Mary almost immediately. 

“We’re going,” she said, with a roll of her eyes. “This place is dead anyways.” Aidan looked about; it seemed that only her ginger friend had left, but that was maybe enough. 

“Wanna go somewhere else?” he asked.

“I love the enthusiasm, but it _is_  a Monday, and we have to at least pretend to be normal, functioning adults,” Mary tutted, linking her arm with Aidan’s as she walked him over to Robert. Robert shared a look with Aidan that he couldn’t quite suss out, but Mary was already pulling them along. “Later this week though, we’ll go nuts.” They paid their tabs and headed for the exit.

Aidan should’ve expected them to be waiting for him. They stood across the street, smoking, their gazes boring into him. He felt an absurd wave of guilt wash over him. Then, he felt furious and stupid all at once, and he was prepared to stalk off back to the cul-de-sac, too impatient for Mary and Robert’s usual tipsy ambling gaits, had he not been stopped short by the sight of Mary crossing the street to meet them.

Her arm had slipped out of Aidan’s so easily, and Robert tried to grab after her, but she looked back at him and practically snarled, “ _relax_ ,” before she made her approach. Her walk was confident, like when she was approaching a new mark at the bar. The women in white appraised her impassively.

“Mind if I bum one?” Mary asked, loud enough for Robert and Aidan hear, and she delicately plucked a cigarette from the fingers of the younger woman, the one with cropped, red hair. She could’ve stopped her, if she wanted, but she remained precariously still. Aidan couldn’t see Mary’s expression, but the blonde woman stared at the pair for a moment before she let the cigarette fall to the concrete. She stomped it out with a twist of her heel and leaned in towards the younger woman, close enough to kiss. Mary must’ve whispered something to her. A moment later, the redhead’s jaw tightened and her cheeks began to flush. Her partner watched it all unfold, perhaps wary, but doing nothing to stop either party.

Mary turned around and walked back over to the two men. Aidan looked at Robert, but he was only staring dead ahead, mulling something over. He only seemed to relax once Mary had returned to them. They all started walking. Aidan glanced at Mary.

“What did you say to her?” Robert gave a minute shake of his head, as if he were stupid to expect a real answer.

Mary let out a short, humorless laugh. “I told her, ‘welcome to the fucking neighborhood.’”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooo guess who did a multichapter outline (that he immediately messed up because outlines are just a _suggestion_ , please leave me alone)? guess who knows where this story is going? guess who found a cockroach in his home and decided "you know what, life inspires art"? 
> 
> you know what's sus? aidan hasn't told a certain someone about their new visitors. you know what's also sus? whatever's up with mary. weird.


	3. 3:07

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so despite my best-laid plans, i've had a really hard time writing this chapter, and i also worried that i haven't been making this enough about robert/dadsona, which i truly do love, and i _also_ have been having a really hard time in life lately. this has been a weird source of stress for me, especially because i've rewritten this chapter like three times and nothing seemed to work, but i decided that i just wanted to make something soft and kind for now

“You look like shit.” Aidan couldn’t take it to heart too much, considering the fact that there was a very handsome man on his doorstep, brandishing a pizza and a bottle of wine. He even managed a smile, seeing the familiar label of the white zinfadel from the first time they hung out.

“Maybe you’ve been draining my life force this entire time, because you actually look pretty good,” Aidan said, finally stepping aside to let Robert into his house. He cast the two Guilty Remnant members waiting for him a quick glance and then shut the door. Robert chuckled.

“Only the blood of virgins can keep a guy lookin’ this good, and something tells me you’ve done that dance before.” Robert was very quick to make himself at home, toeing off his shoes as he set the pizza on the coffee table and headed to the kitchen in search of glassware. 

There had been a joke about Alex having actually enforced a life of celibacy that came to mind, but it died quickly on Aidan’s lips, so all he managed was a, “Yeah, well, you got me there,” that he wasn’t even sure the other man heard. He got no response either way, only the sound of glasses clinking, a soft gasp, and then a silence that filled Aidan’s heart with dread. 

“Well, well, well,” Robert said dramatically, emerging with two glasses in hand — a dingy, normal-sized wine glass with dozens of spots that Aidan had never managed to get out, and the monstrosity that had somehow made its way into his home and dug in like a parasite. He’d almost wondered how it had survived the move, if not for remembering Amanda’s pleas that one day (“sooner rather than later, because I’m a mature person and it’s _wine_ , Dad”) she’d drink from that stupid glass herself. It was large, cheaply made, decorated with polka dots and a particularly horrific font declaring that it, and it alone, was the holder of the “Jolly Juice.” 

“It was a gift,” was all Aidan could think to say at first, trying so hard to hate the smug grin that spread across Robert’s face. “You can’t ever tell Mary about this.”

“I can’t believe you’re in my debt _for the rest of your life_ ,” Robert crowed, barking out a laugh. “You live alone! You could’ve gotten rid of this, and nobody would’ve ever known!”

“We both know that isn’t true, and I’m a little afraid it would mysteriously show up on my doorstep the next morning. I’ve made my peace with it.” Aidan made to grab for the Jolly Juice cup, only for Robert to dance out of his reach, producing a corkscrew from his jacket to work on the bottle of wine.

“No way,” was all he said when Aidan looked at him indignantly. “You get the bitch cup. I found it, so I’m getting the jolly juice.” He made a point to fill the massive cup close to its brim before pouring Aidan a considerably more modest glass. He handed it over and raised his chalice for a cheers. Aidan obligingly clinked the cups and took a sip of the wine. It was warmer than he’d normally like, but he didn’t mind. He never seemed to mind with Robert around.

“So what torture are you gonna put me through tonight?” Robert asked as they settled on the couch, moving the pizza box onto his lap. Aidan made a quizzical noise, and Robert gave him a flat look that was all too familiar, because he made a habit of being too slow on the uptake. “You gonna pick or what?”

“You’ve picked the last, what, _all movies we’ve ever watched_?” 

“Yeah, well, don’t make me regret it.” The corner of his stubbled mouth pulled upwards. “And don’t think I haven’t been scrutinizing your DVD collection every time I’m over. There are at least five appropriate choices you could pick, not that I’m saying anything.” 

Aidan took a second to look at him, really look at him, and he might’ve looked like shit but right then he didn’t feel like it. He wish he could’ve leaned over and just kissed Robert on the mouth, to express his fondness, his affection, his gratitude. A kiss he would’ve given to Alex, once upon a time.

Instead he groaned as he stood up, dingy glass in hand, and began his deliberation process.

 

* * *

 

By the time they were diligently watching the end credits to _Muriel’s Wedding_ , Aidan’s living room had taken on a considerable amount of debris: the demolished pizza box, of course, and the empty bottle of wine, along with quite a few bottles of Aidan’s beer, just because it had been there. Aidan’s head felt pleasantly fuzzy around the edges; he was exhausted, just as he had been for the past week, but he was also warm and content, and he didn’t want to give that feeling up. He felt like he could say anything like this. He felt almost like he wanted to say _everything_.

Gradually, both men had shifted from sitting upright to reclining, half-laying on the couch and leaning into each other. There was the soft press of Robert’s shoulder against Aidan’s own, and when his neighbor thanked the assistant to the makeup and hair stylist, his voice was low and soft and closer than Aidan had first thought. He turned his head and found his own face very close to the side of Robert’s; he watched Robert look at him from the corner of his eye before thanking whoever else, his mouth twitching as though he were holding back a smile.

“You did good, Aidan,” Robert admitted after the movie returned to the DVD start menu. Aidan wanted to rearrange himself, to lay his head on Robert’s shoulder, just to see what would happen. He was just about tipsy enough to make a move that thoughtless, but then Robert hummed thoughtfully. “Aidan, Amanda… Alex.” He shot him a quick glance, as though making sure that the name wasn’t cursed. Aidan only stared at him, unblinking, wondering what his point was. “Kinda weird, don’t you think?”

“We called ourselves the A-Team,” Aidan mumbled, rolling out a crick in his neck. Robert snorted. Then, without really meaning to, Aidan said, “I haven’t told her.” This tipsiness was taking him somewhere, but it was moving into a dangerous direction. Soon he’d be talking about the past two sleepless nights, the deep web research on the GR, the errant cravings for a cigarette. Maybe he’d wanted to talk about his feelings, but only the romantic ones.

“What d’you mean?” The couch dipped as Robert sat up to look at him directly. 

“I haven’t told Amanda about the Remnant.” 

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want her to worry. Because there’s nothing to worry about.” But he knew that wasn’t it. He knew Amanda would know that wasn’t it. She knew him better than anyone, she would see right through him. “Things are tough enough with her being away at school, and the anniversary is almost a week away, and… I don’t know.” Aidan looked out the window, out of habit, and found himself squinting. Robert followed his gaze, and the two were silent for a minute. 

“They’re gone,” Robert finally said, looking at the empty expanse of the cul-de-sac, dull and quiet and dark. Aidan glanced at his phone and saw the time.

“It’s almost 2:30. I mean, they gotta go back sometime.” He was afraid to let the silence draw on for too long, afraid to explain himself to Robert any more. “Wanna go for a walk?”

They had their shoes and jackets on within minutes, and the cold fall air welcomed them outside. It was a perfect night. They walked without purpose, out of the neighborhood, onto the streets, past the liquor store, past Jim & Kim’s, neither one of them wanting to stop. Aidan had always found walks calming, but he’d been holing himself up in his house lately, unwilling to let the GR follow him. That just left him with a lot of time to think, and that hardly ever did him any good.

Robert produced a pack of cigarettes after a while and shook one out, lighting it without a second thought. Aidan stared at him, and Robert scowled before his expression shifted as close as Robert Small could get to embarrassed. “Shit, sorry,” he said, making to put it out, but Aidan stopped him.

“I—” He paused. Bit his lip. The cool air and the walk had cleared his head a little bit, but he pretended he was tipsier than he was, just to feel emboldened enough to speak. “I like it when you do it, sometimes.” Robert blinked, and then took another drag, encouraged by Aidan’s gentle smile.

“You should tell her,” he said as he exhaled, smoke drifting from his lips. “She deserves to know, even if there’s nothing to worry about. And if you… I don’t know, need help, or like a drink afterwards, I’m here for you.” Aidan stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, looking at Robert, who looked back and squirmed under his gaze. 

“Robert,” Aidan breathed, and he reached out to grab Robert’s hand, the one holding the cigarette. Robert tried to pull away, about to say something, but Aidan stepped into his space, felt his fingers brush against the other man’s scarred knuckles. And then, in a very Mary-like move, he plucked the cigarette from between Robert’s knuckles and held it up, watching the confusion blossom on his friend’s face.

“You don’t smoke.”

“I’ll have you know, I used to smoke in college,” Aidan said, stepping out of Robert’s reach now. “At parties. _Sometimes_.” He took an experimental drag and felt instantly nauseated, coughing and doubling over and letting the cigarette fall carelessly from his fingertips. It was nothing like what he’d been imagining.

“The fuck are you doing?” Robert grumbled, helping right Aidan as he stomped out the cigarette. “What the hell was that for?” 

“I thought—” Aidan coughed again, and spat on the ground for good measure. “I thought it would… I dunno. I thought it’d make me feel better.” And hearing it said out loud, he let out a small laugh, and then coughed again, to make sure it was all out of his system. And the cough had him laughing even harder, and Robert was laughing too, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. And the two laughed harder and harder, because it was 3:07 in the morning, and Aidan found himself having to sit down on the curb, found himself laughing so hard there were tears in his eyes. He kept laughing until he suddenly wasn’t. The tears wouldn’t stop, and he said, “Sorry,” and nothing else, but it was enough for now.

Robert sat down next to him and wrapped his arm around Aidan’s shoulders again. He didn’t move the whole time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the jolly juice cup is real and it lives in my mom's cupboard and i refuse to drink out of anything else while i'm home. thank you to the handful of you still reading and leaving kudos!! it truly does mean a lot, and i will continue to try my best, as really any of us can do

**Author's Note:**

> so this is very much an exercise in patience, hopefully mostly for me and not as much for y'all. i haven't Seriously Written in a while, and it's taken me longer than expected to get something i'm satisfied with. but also writing is a _process_ and we are all on a _journey_ and it's like, okay to have flaws, or whatever. it's fine. 
> 
> other characters will be showing up, and i do generally know where this is all going, albeit i'm not entirely sure in what format. while i'm still considering shifting perspectives, as the leftovers so excellently does, i'm also very much about robert/dadsona and the meat of this story belongs to them.
> 
> anyways, i will be back! sooner, rather than later! in the meantime, feel free to follow me on [tumblr](http://lorettamccready.tumblr.com/)


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